Nowhere to Hide: A Shannon Ames Thriller by BREARTON T.J

Author:BREARTON, T.J.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkubator Books
Published: 2021-07-04T00:00:00+00:00

28

2:12 pm

Susan Piper stuck a needle in Zlotnick’s arm. The needle attached to a tube coming out of a bag of saline. She removed Zlotnick’s bandages and examined his wound, squirted a brownish solution over it, redressed it. She took his vitals, asked him questions, and had him follow her finger. Then she gave him some stronger painkillers and an antibiotic.

Piper was in her thirties, with short hair. She was built stocky and had bright blue eyes. She took Shannon and Sayward out of Zlotnick’s earshot. “We got to move him as soon as possible. He’s hypothermic and infected. Even with the antibiotic, he needs surgery. That bullet fragmented when it hit the bone. I can’t do it here – he needs a doctor.”

Shannon had contacted Trooper Hansen while waiting for Sayward to return. Local firemen and civilians were getting some of the roads cleared in town, using their personal plow trucks. McKay, the young volunteer fireman who’d been holding the scene at the Honda Accord, was among them. Shannon had asked him to make his way to the convenience store, and he’d arrived ten minutes ago, pushing the icy snow out of the way. The Honda was an important crime scene, but this had to take precedence.

Two vehicles occupied the parking lot – Ashby’s Jeep and Zlotnick’s Scout, which was running. She’d had it warming up for a few minutes now. Only the best vehicles for this kind of weather ought to be in use. Hers didn’t count, and Ashby’s should remain as uncorrupted as possible.

They moved Zlotnick to the back of his Scout. It was agony; he gnashed his teeth and groaned the whole way. The pain was getting worse despite the meds. His skin was ashen, lips blanched. They kept the heat in the Scout cranked all the way.

Time to leave Hank Ashby, yet again.

The volunteer fireman had extra gas, and Sayward topped off his snow machine. They left, headed north into town as a kind of caravan: McKay leading in his plow truck, Shannon driving the Scout with Piper and Zlotnick, Sayward buzzing along beside them.

On the left was the lake, narrow and covered in ice. The first cabins of a dark, closed motel dotted the shore. After those, a small boxy building with lighted beer signs in the window. It was mostly snowmobiles parked in the lot, plus two pickup trucks, each ensconced in frozen snow. She thought about man number two, being alone on foot, and where he might go…

A shrill beeping dislodged her thoughts. Susan Piper’s pager. A woman’s voice broke over with a message: “Long Lake EMS, you’re needed to respond to Tarbell Road. One male, one female, apparent gunshot victims, unresponsive, have been found by a local man. He was unable to make the determination as to the victims’ statuses. He says they – his words – ‘look dead’ – but you need to proceed as if they’re alive.”

It was the work of the second man, Shannon thought. Had to be.

Piper got on her phone with EMS headquarters.

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